


Turbulence

by Ibenholt



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, Femslash, Gender or Sex Swap, Genderbending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 14:45:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9128353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ibenholt/pseuds/Ibenholt
Summary: On their way to Centauri Prime, the Prime Minister and her Narn bodyguard find a new way to pass the time.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you ever so much to the wonderful shell_and_bone for her hard work as my beta! You're an inspiration to me, and a gift to the B5-fandom.

“You can’t be angry for the entire flight.” Londra cried. In her peripheral vision, G’Kal could make out a pair of thin, purple lips becoming even thinner. 

Londra was pathetic. That was nothing new, but G’Kal hadn’t assumed she would sulk in front of her—her, and the stewardess, who was looking nervously at them. 

“I’ll be as angry as I want, for as long as I want,“ G’Kal finally responded, handing the young lady a few dukats in exchange for an orange bottle and a small packet of candies. Centauri transports were filled to the brim with little luxuries like those. She wasn’t expecting any at the palace, so she enjoyed herself as best she could. There were still several hours that could be devoted to pestering the personnel for little favors. The transport only harbored a few passengers, and they had the good sense to go in the front, far away from the frightening Narn. 

Maybe that was why Londra had decided to go against G’Kal on the matter of seating, putting herself in the aisle seat and refusing to move, even with the threat of being lifted. Not an easy feat with the ridiculously low roof. Even more difficult when the future empress held onto the handles and dug her feet in like a child. Perhaps she had thought that G’Kal would protect her from assassins and the likes like a guard dog, with her mere presence. So she had given up and sat down by the window seat, ignoring Londra’s peace-offering of a drink, instead paying for it herself when the stewardess finally graced them with her presence. 

The lady left, having given Londra a small selection of bottles. She took a long swig of one of them. “You’re impossible.”

She chuckled,

“You have a death-wish.” 

G’Kal said, fiddling with the paper-thread,

“Not a wish. A premonition.”

Londra mumbled, downing another bottle. There was a smile playing in the corner of her mouth. 

“Spare me,” G’Kal answered, crushing the sweet marbles between her teeth. Urza’s death had left Londra with a slightly darker sense of humor, and she didn’t particularly care for it.   
“If you were so eager to be punished, you should have left it to me.” 

Londra’s lips parted, and G’Kal got the feeling that a mischievous light had appeared in her eyes.  
“What do you have in mind?” Londra said lowly. When G’Kal didn’t reply, Londra leaned in, pressing herself against G’Kal’s arm. “I suppose you could tie me up.” Londra’s hand was on G’Kal’s leg, “And do whatever you want to me…” She went on, while her hand went further up, to where her thighs met. 

So. She had been paying attention, after all. 

G’Kal remembered that night after Sheridan and Delenn’s wedding, as well as the nights they had fooled around in bed at the royal palace. Londra had probably caught a glimpse of how she had touched herself, working herself to a climax while tearing one out of Londra. 

“You might have to gag me,” G’Kal gasped and pushed herself against her hand. Narn skin was tough, even the outer lips, and while Londra’s fingers were enough to excite her, she needed far more friction. She doubted the nails would even bother her.   
“Or… maybe you want me to scream?” 

And there they were, digging lightly into the fabric of her trousers. She gasped, only to have her mouth covered by Londra’s. She leaned forward, pressing her fingers even harder against G’Kal. When Londra broke away, she smiled. “I’ll do anything you want,” she muttered, “You could sit above me and make me...” 

She looked around for a moment, “Or maybe…” she kissed her hungrily again before sliding out of her seat and kneeling before her. Placing her hands on G’Kal’s hips, she maneuvered her until she sunk down, awkwardly pushing her bottom half forward in the seat, allowing Londra to pull her trousers down. Londra placed G’Kal’s legs on her shoulders and pushed her tunic up. G’Kal swallowed. What if the stewardess came back? 

Londra’s mind seemed to be entirely elsewhere as she cocked her head to the side. “What…” Londra leaned in, making G’Kal shudder with her warm breath. “This is…” 

Londra looked confused, but not put off. Of course she hadn’t seen Narn genitalia before. A few tumbles in the dark meant little, after all. Especially not when she had planted herself in the bed on her stomach, and her face ever at G’Kal’s level. She couldn’t even have stretched her neck to try and see what was between G’Kal’s legs, or studied her naked body in the aftermath. 

A surge went through her as her tongue hit her clit, and she drew breath in through her nose, startling Londra, who pulled back. “Lower…” G’Kal whispered. “For now.” 

Londra answered by placing a kiss on her inner thigh and poking the tip of her tongue against the lips. She got no other reaction than G’Kal’s head falling back. 

Londra was a quick learner, it seemed. She wondered what surprised her the most, the lips, or the nub, or the shape. Maybe it seemed excessive even to a Centauri. The aperta were slits, after all. The area around them were sensitive, certainly, but nothing compared to the inside. Londra had gone limp with only three fingers inside of her. When she had started to move those fingers, Londra had been clinging to her and rocking like mad. She had wondered what would happen if they ever made it to six. 

She didn’t get any more time to think about that as Londra flattened her tongue against her, dragging out a low hiss from G’Kal that she filtered through her teeth. 

Londra started sucking on the folds, pulling at them enough to make G’Kal squirm ever so slightly, and let them go before starting the teasing again. G’Kal wanted to grab the black pony tail and ride Londra’s face, letting her clit hit that delightful, sharp nose, and allow her lips and tongue and teeth live up to their potential. 

Her hands were warm on G’Kal’s thighs. The rings on her fingers sparkled in the dull light, and whenever she moved her head sharply, the shine danced over G’Kal’s armor. She longed to shed the extra layers, and tear off Londra’s black silk to mark the milky skin underneath—hers. 

Londra’s tongue turned thin and hard as it made its way into her, pressing her lips to the soft skin surrounding her opening, holding it there. She did it with such conviction, as opposed to the experimental licks from earlier.

Had she done this for others? Her fellow wives? She didn’t find it difficult to imagine all four of them on a bed with creamy white sheets, tangled in each other. Londra with her large breasts and soft, round stomach, melting against Mariel’s golden-brown skin, while Timov and Daggair left lipstick-marks on their shoulders. Fingers and tongues disappearing into another’s back as their eyes closed. The image pleased her, but maybe Londra’s little maneuver didn’t have her reacting as desired, because she pulled her tongue out and replaced it with two fingers. 

“Now?” she whispered. G’Kal could only nod. She almost put her thighs together when Londra’s tooth scraped against her clit. She licked it a few times before placing her thumb over her it, pressing in a circular motion while thrusting and spreading the fingers still inside her. G’Kal’s entire body shook. What little dignity she had left, she needed to cling to—but with Londra sitting there with that satisfied smirk plastered on her face, it seemed to already have flown away. 

“Come for me,” she cooed. G’Kal wanted nothing more than to let her work for it. But the wave hit, making her bite down and shudder around Londra’s fingers. She tried not to moan when they were pulled out, but failed when nails raked over her one final time. 

G’Kal sat there for a moment, so out of breath and dazed that she couldn’t find the strength to pull her trousers up, or acknowledge the building pain in her back. Londra calmly pushed her other leg down, and got to her feet before sinking back into her seat. She dabbed at her mouth and nose with a handkerchief she’d produced from one of the hidden pockets in her dress, looking completely unfazed. Her lips were still dark purple, and aside from a flush in her cheeks that easily could be blamed on the bottles in the shelf in front of her, she looked just as presentable as usual. 

“That wasn’t punishment,” G’Kal muttered. 

“Don’t say that. My jaw will be sore for days.”

Londra sighed, opening another bottle. 

“Then, I suppose I’ll have to make you do it again.”

G’Kal grinned, popping another piece of candy in her mouth.


End file.
